What I should be doing right now: working on my newspaper column, which is due on Sunday. What I am doing: playing on the Internet and updating this little chronicle. After rambling here, I probably will hop onto Hulu and watch an episode of "Chuck." (Why does NBC not rerun that show? Do people really want to see endless airings of "Deal Or No Deal"?)
Anyway, the tale I tell you this evening is that of a real rock star and a fake rock star. The real rock star in question is my friend Bray. He had a CD release party at the Independent this weekend, and it was super fun. After a few glasses of champagne across town at Project One, I arrived just in time to see Bray take the stage as well as command of his pitch perfect set. Bray is one of the most dynamic performers I've ever seen, and he was awesome.
The fake rock star would be me. Between the bronchitis, my mini L.A. vacation two and a half weeks ago and just generally being busy, I hadn't been singing much for the past month. But a few days ago, Jackie and I got together for rehearsal (Ho, our bass player, is traveling in Mongolia), and I was handily reminded why I love singing songs. I'd been in a dour mood beforehand, but after our two-hour practice, I was happy as a clam. We also treated my friend and neighbor Alison, who is about to move to India, to a little mini concert in my living room.
Just an aside: I certainly have some globe-trotting friends, don't I? The furthest I've ever traveled is to Great Britain, and in general, I don't stray further from home than Hawaii. Okay, back to our tale.
With a good rehearsal under our belts, Jackie and I decided to perform a few tunes at the McGrath's open mic in Alameda last night. I sang three songs and then left the stage to Jackie to play some of her original numbers. There were only about 15 people in the joint, which I believe is rare for that particular open mic, and to be totally honest, most of them didn't pay attention. But such is the life of a fake rock star. Jackie has much more rock star cred than me, and her original songs are really good. One guy liked them so much, he bought drinks for me and Jackie once she was done. Jackie's solo work has nothing whatsoever to do with me, but I took the free cocktail, anyway.
I'm going to guess that getting a complimentary beverage when your guitarist writes and performs some good songs also is part of the fake rock star life. And frankly, that suits me just fine.
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